


Jaskier is a piece of art

by EllieStormfound



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: M/M, and geralt did not now, geraskier prompt, jaskier is a nude model, no beta we die like witchers, who doesn't want a lager than life nude painting of a certain bard?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieStormfound/pseuds/EllieStormfound
Summary: Jaskier sometimes poses as a nude model and Geralt did not know this until he comes across a statue that has a stunning similarity to a certain bard...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 77





	Jaskier is a piece of art

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt send to me by a wonderful anon and was initially posted on tumblr.

“I saw a statue of you today in the mayor’s manor,” Geralt told Jaskier upon returning with a wicked grin on his face. With a small surprised intake of breath Jaskier turned away, “I know I am beloved by the masses, but it would be new to me that they are building statues for me now,” he replied.

Geralt chuckled amused, “it was not really of you, but of the mayor.”

With an indignant huff Jaskier replied, “the mayor is at least 80 years old, Geralt, are you insulting me? Do you want to tell me that I look old?”

Geralt, still grinning, “no, calm down. The mayor has a marble statue standing in the middle of his hall of, as he says, himself in his prime. Butt-naked and with way much muscles than that prick ever had.”

Jaskier turned to the witcher, brows furrowed, “and what made you say it is a statue of me?”

The witcher told him how he had waited in the hall of the mayor’s manor for his payment for ridding the local forest of a fiend. The hall had been decorated with paintings of old men, probably some forefathers of the mayor and there had been a white marble statue in the middle of the room, bathed in sunlight. 

“And there was something about the statue that reminded me of you,” he said.

Jaskier just looked at him, one hand on his hip, head slightly tilted, lifting his eyebrows as to beckon him to continue. And Geralt burst out in laughter, pointing at him.

“The statue had that exact posture!” 

This was the poise Jaskier normally did when he was flirting with someone, or when he was scolding Geralt for something stupid like using plain soap for washing his hair instead of the scented one Jaskier had given him. 

What Geralt did not tell Jaskier was, that not only the posture reminded him of his bard, but the broadness of the marble shoulders, the long beautiful fingers on the hip and the curve of the ass, even how the hair was depicted, the delicate locks at the base of the skull tickling the neck were eerily like Jaskier’s. Geralt had by now seen Jaskier naked often enough. The bard was in no way shy and sharing campsites and small inn-rooms made it hard not to get the occasional glimpse of the other. But of course Geralt had never looked that closely at the naked bard. 

“The only thing remotely looking like the mayor was the face,” the witcher said, “he had probably some young handsome lad pose for the sculptor and made him put his ugly face on the statue.”

Geralt did not notice Jaskier blushing as he turned away.

——————————

A few weeks later Geralt had begrudgingly accepted to accompany Jaskier to a feast at some small court. He had instantly forgotten what was celebrated and was regretting his promise to come as he was fumbling with the uncomfortably stiff and tight new doublet Jaskier made him wear. As usual he was to protect the bard in case any cuckolded spouse was to run into them. 

“Oh, there you are,” Geralt heard a sweet voice call after them. With a barely audible sigh Jaskier turned around, his showman smile plastered on his face, “Countess de Stael, as always does your beautiful smile shine brighter than the sun.” He made a low bow and accepted the hand of the woman for a delicate kiss. 

“Julian, the painting is finally done,” she said, beaming widely, “do you wish to see it?” 

Jaskier stole a glance at Geralt and with a gasp the Countess turned to the witcher and said, “oh, forgive me, I was so overcome with joy to see my Julian again, that I forgot all my manners.” She curtsied in Geralt’s direction and offered him her hand as well, “Anne-Louise de Stael, Countess and biggest admirer of our Julian here.” She winked at the bard. 

Geralt hadn’t said anything yet, just shot a look over to Jaskier as the countess curtsied and had mouthed “my Julian?” with a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk. 

“Ah, yes,” Jaskier said with a side glance at the witcher, “if you don’t mind, I can come by tomorrow and we will have a look at the painting?”

The countess turned to Geralt again, “master witcher, I am sure you are an admirer of the fine arts as well and wish to have a look? Julian must have told you how tedious it was to pose for six days straight. But he did such a good job,” she finished dreamily. 

Geralt looked at Jaskier and registered a slight blush creeping up his neck and with a wicked grin said, “I do indeed enjoy the finer arts. Let’s have a look at this painting of our Julian.” 

The countess linked her arm with Geralt and steered him toward a stairwell with Jaskier in tow. They entered a light filled room and Geralt had to stifle a laugh as he saw the huge painting, higher than he was tall and wider than two times his length. Depicted in the enormous painting was Jaskier. Completely naked. Sprawled on a thick red carpet, propped up on one elbow, being fed grapes by a naked lady, probably the Countess herself. Geralt turned to Jaskier with a huge grin, seeing countless emotions battle on the handsome face, ranging from embarrassment, to appreciation and even pride. 

“That is,” the bard began, but had to cough to steady his voice, “larger than I expected.” 

And after a moment to Geralt he said, “the painter just did sketches when I was here.” 

Geralt still grinned like a lunatic and turned to the Countess, “will you show the painting to the other guests?” 

Jaskier seemed to have overcome the first wave of embarrassment and took a closer look at the artwork, starting to discuss details with the Countess and Geralt found himself also staring at the canvass. The larger than life painted bard looked relaxed and the colour of his skin almost seemed to have a golden glow. The muscled biceps were as accurately depicted as the brown hair dusting his chest. And even though it was a painting, created to be looked at, he was not sure if he should be studying the lower part of the bard’s body that closely. As he felt a blush creeping up his ears, he turned around and fled the room back to the party in search of a glass of wine. Or better a whole bottle.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [EllieStormfound](https://elliestormfound.tumblr.com/)


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